


Harry Potter and the Magical Academy

by Carib0u



Category: The Worst Witch - All Media Types, Troll (1986)
Genre: F/F, Female Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2019-10-11 08:49:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17443709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carib0u/pseuds/Carib0u
Summary: Harry Potter's adventures continue at a magical school in England where he rescues a girl named Hermione from a troll. But no one is what they seem, including Harry him/herself.





	1. A School of Magic! Harry Meets Hermione

As Harry Potter ran to the unused classroom where the sounds of a struggle were coming from, she didn't have time to ponder where she was or why. She really, really hoped this would work, and she only had a few seconds to fret over what would possess a girl to be so stupid as to wander off where a troll could get her. A **_revelo_** wouldn't work here. As a boy (and, in his own estimation, a very handsome one) he'd gone through all of Jeanette's naked rituals by various kinds of trees to "build up magical potential" but despite being a nymph, she hadn't taken any liberties as he'd rather hoped she _would_. On paper, **_conturbabimus_** would work long enough to drag the idiotic girl away before the troll could gather its wits and start serious spell-casting.

She kicked the door open and yelled the incantation without even looking around. Both figures struggling on the floor suddenly went slack and stared around them.

Harry dragged the girl (not bad looking but very dowdy) through the dusty, nondescript door and cast **_adfigo_** on it — another first attempt that worked. She owed Jeanette a debt of thanks. Eunice St. Clair, too. From the pounding the door was now taking, it was more than holding up. The girl was coming to her senses, so they dashed toward where she told Harry her room was. When they reached the section, the girl first made a complex gesture and said, " ** _Nuntius_**  Amelia Cackle hazardous being in the North Tower corridor, last room!", causing a white bird to appear and fly off with a scrap of paper in its beak, then spelled Harry in, and they ended up sitting on her bed. The girl was still shaking a bit but she smiled at Harry.

"Thank you for saving me from .... was that a troll?"

"A troll wizard, I guess you'd call it."

"That's supposed to be impossible, you know. But in any case, thank you ... "

"Harriet Potter. Named after my father, Harry Potter, senior. I go by Harry preferentially."

"Ah, I am Hermione ...... " the girl paused. " ... Grant. Hermione Grant."

Harry had never prided himself on his intellect. When it came to the things that interested him, like friends, girls, girlfriends (you get the picture), he'd seen that having a pretty face was far more important than whatever you had going on behind it. Not that that applied now. He'd barely had time to see his new form in a mirror, and had wasted that having a breakdown (what Madame St. Clair called 'throwing a tantrum', in fact). But who would blame him? He'd been a 15-year-old boy, his family's weirdness behind him, his little sister in one place for once, and nothing to worry about in the future but juggling phone numbers from hot girls. Now, thanks to what Eunice St. Clair had had Jeanette and the other Fae do to him, he was a dowdy, four-eyed eleven-year-old girl. Moreover, he wasn't in San Francisco anymore. He was in Wimbledon, and not here as a tennis champion, which would have been hot and garnered abundant female attention. He - or rather, she — was at a crazy school of magic the other people in Wimbledon could not even see.

All that said, even someone like Harry could tell the girl was lying.

"Umm, haven't you even checked in here?" she said. "I hope you were able to remember your name a bit better then, if so."

"Well, then, Harry Potter, if we're talking about not being what we seem?" she responded, looking her in the eye. Somehow, she knew. Maybe not everything that was up with Harry, but some of it, for sure. She decided it was the better part of valor to drop the subject. But that led to a different one.

"You are certainly powerful and educated in spell-crafting for an eleven-year-old, I have to say," Harry began.

"Oh?" asked Hermione, raising one eyebrow. Really, she could be actually cute if she'd taken the least little care for her appearance. Her dark, bushy hair was medium length, but cut as if someone had brushed it all out then cut it all off at the same length, then done for her bangs with a mixing bowl and a fabric shears.

"I almost am surprised you didn't overcome To .... the troll," Harry continued, catching herself.

"Your friend To the Troll has magic I've never encountered. That did not seem to be the case for you." Once again, she met her eyes, and Harry had to look away.

"Well," Harry responded clumsily.

"Well, indeed. Let's go have some tea and something to eat, shall we?"

With that, Hermione turned to bend over her bed and reach her bag. She came up smiling for some reason, and then they left, with Hermione spelling them out of the common area. 

En route to the dining hall, she pulled Harry to a halt. "I realize we have a sort of _detente_ going on, Harry, and I am genuinely grateful, but we must talk. You were staring at my breasts — what little I have — more than meeting my eyes when we were talking. When you did meet my gaze, you were thoughtful, as if evaluating how much better I might look if I fixed myself up, and paused when you got to my lips, at which point you licked your own. When I bent over to get my bag, in the mirror I saw you were drooling over my bum." She had her hands on her hips and a satisfied expression on her face. "I am sorry if I was short with you when you pointed out my mistake. It's elementary that you pick a name, stick to it, and say it automatically. The answer to your question is that nervousness such as to make you stammer out your name is quite expected here at Miss Cackle's, and in fact, the faculty and other students find it endearing. But I wished to return the favor, if your goal is to be discreet."

When they got to the dining hall and summoned tea and a small lunch, Harry and Hermione sat away from the others. Hermione said, " ** _murmurati_** " as they sat down, which she explained would not silence them, just make it tricky to make out anything they were saying. Then she asked Harry, "Would you agree both of us have secrets, and our own agenda, here at Miss Cackle's?"

Harry nodded.

"And am I correct in saying you are lamenting the fact that your social life will be somewhat truncated? I honestly suspect you are a bit older than you look, probably in your prime dating age."

Harry looked at her, astonished.

"Well, if that surprised you .... Harry, we are going to have to be allies. If you did not mean me well, you could have let that troll you know finish me off, for one thing."

"Well ..." Harry interrupted.

"Well?"

"He doesn't do that. He's evil, all right but he thinks killing is a waste."

"Oh? So what was my fate to be?"

"He would put you in a glass coffin, probably. It's what he did to my sister, Wendy. And then assume your form and wreak havoc."

"And what's preventing that now? Well, Amelia will probably sort him out."

"Uh." Harry looked a little ill.

"What?"

"Well, he can expand a room like that until it's so big he won't be found easily. It's one of his spells."

"So, regardless of my plans, I have to help deal with a shape-changing troll wizard who could be anyone? Am I hearing this correctly? And of course you are aware that trolls are mostly resistant to magic — here in an academy devoted to nothing but?"

Harry could only nod.

"Does he take liberties with the girls? Or are there some small mercies here?"

"I think he's still obsessed with my little sister ...  Or, well, now she'd be a bit older than me, wouldn't she? He wanted her to be his consort in his dark kingdom, after all."

"At any rate, Harry, if you wish to keep me company here, I would not mind. My own experiences at girls' academies have made me open to such arrangements, and I can be very discreet, and instruct you as well, if it comes to that. But, hmm... okay, enough secret-sharing. Let's get you up to speed about Miss Cackle's Academy, shall we?"

She paused. "My true surname is actually Cackle. Since I share that with the headmistress, Amelia Cackle, and her twin Agatha - who is, I assure you, quite the piece of work - and since my existence has been heretofore absolutely unknown, you can see how that could be confusing at "Miss Cackle's Academy of Magic?"

After Harry nodded, Hermione gave her a brief overview of the school. She encouraged Harry to meet a few of the students over lunch and meet up with her afterwards. Since it was, after all, an all-girl school, Harriet had no objection to that plan whatsoever. It was time to see if girl-Harry still had game.

 

 


	2. Hermione Shows Harry the ropes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione fills in Harry Potter on the basics of the Academy: amiable but manipulative sweets-loving Head, her faculty pet, the hostile student-hating Potions teacher who already dislikes Harry and panders to the blonde scion of a prominent magical family, etc. They meet Miss Cackle, who knows all of Hermione's secrets.

"Let's see," said Hermione. "If I remember our schedule, we have Potions first thing tomorrow morning. So I have to warn you, the Potions teacher — she's good at her craft but she hates students. All  but the ones from good families, of course. She would claim it's the "competent" witches, but no one's ever seen her give Maude Moonshine a break. And she fawns over Ethel Hallow, even though she's not a patch on her sister Esmerelda. I would say the nastier you are to the less-favored students, the less Hardbroom picks on you. Quite the incentive there. You _must_  not get on her bad side, Harry."

"Hardbroom - would that be a thin, pale woman who sort of stalks everywhere she goes with her cape billowing and a perpetual scowl at everyone?"

"Ah, you've met. That's too bad. Still, maybe she won't take an instant dislike to you. How did you meet?"

"I was talking to a very nice girl — nothing special for looks, but beggars can't be choosers ..."

"Name?"

"Millie something. Rubble? Hovel?"

"Oh God, she associates you with _Mildred Hubble_?? Harry, she's going to hate you on sight! Did Mildred do anything wrong while you were there? Who am I kidding, of course she did, it's _Mildred_ ..."

"No, nothing I could see," Harry replied, but too tentatively for Hermione's taste.

"What happened?"

"Well, she wouldn't hold it against me if, hypothetically, I didn't see her coming up behind us, just heard the swoosh of her cloak, turned around suddenly, and crashed into her, forcing her to drop and spoil an armload of expensive, hard-to-replace potions ingredients, right?"

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione sighed.

* * *

 

Harry heard footsteps approaching. In the confrontation with the Troll, she’d been forced out of her comfort zone, and it was still green enough in her memory that her body whipped around and even, to her surprise, drew her to step in front of Hermione. Unless she missed her guess, she was already getting into her pants soon, or however girls put it here, so it was a surprisingly altruistic motion.  Hermione smirked watching it, but also stood back. 

The potions teacher was back, looking like she wanted to chop Harry up into ingredients. Fortunately, she was accompanied by a much older woman with an air of authority. She preempted the other woman, who was still sputtering. “I’ll handle this, Constance,” she said. Though her tone was professional in the extreme, it was also kind of lenient - Harry had long ago mastered sussing out teachers and authority figures to calculate how far she could bend the rules in her favor without them having a cow. “You are almost certainly in no mood to be objective, and after all, this is literally little Harriet’s first few hours at the Academy.” 

With a huff, and a glare at Harry that promised painful death later — really, it reminded Harry of the look the Troll had given boy-him when he thought they’d managed to kill him off - Hardbroom whirled around, her cloak billowing around her, and stalked off.

The older woman turned to Hermione. “Miss ... Grant, I appreciate your taking young Harriet under your wing. Millie is a delightful girl, but you are an uncommonly savvy specimen, in my estimation. Quite mature beyond your years. And with a knowledge of the Academy I haven’t seen in girls several years your senior. If anyone can keep Harriet out of trouble, it would be you. And it is even more commendable coming from a student who — it is said around the Academy - usually keeps her own counsel.”

Harry was grinning and trying to hide it. Hermione had been watching both of them. “What has you so amused, Miss Potter?”  she asked suddenly. She hadn’t said anything until then, so Harry had almost forgotten about her presence.

What had he been thinking? “Umm ... just ... you know ... Miss Cackle .... Miss Cackle.” Yes, that was the sort of thing that set Harry off. He had always been a “good-time Charlie” more than some sort of Brainiac. She thought that here in England they called “bros” “lads.” Harry was a dyed-in-the-wool Lad. Or now was it Ladette? Then Harry remembered Hermione was going by Grant. But not before somehow her mouth had opened and "I thought there were two Miss Cackles for a second, you know, like 'Cackle, cackle.' Umm .... dunno why." Harry turned red, which had not been a usual event for boy-Harry, to understate the case. Both of the other two stared at her. She belatedly remembered that Miss Cackle had a twin sister who quite possibly was the other Miss Cackle. Harry's idiocy kept getting worse. She missed her former good looks more than ever. Perhaps it was for the best if the headmistress assumed Harry'd heard about her evil twin.

To her surprise, Miss Cackle laughed. “Well, Miss Potter, can one have too much of a good thing?” Suddenly, more seriously, she took hold of her sleeve and Hermione’s and, saying, “We must continue this talk in my office, don’t you think?” she made a gesture and everything went white. The next thing Harry knew, she was leaning against the wall outside Miss Cackle’s office, holding down the bile in her throat by main effort.

 **"You've never been through a transference spell before, have you, dear? I'll tell you a secret - I did the same, my first time. Here. Take this,”** said Miss Cackle, handing her what looked like a piece of candy.

**"Is it magic?"**

**"Better. It's sugar. I never go anywhere without a bag of lemon drops. Suck on that and you'll be fine next time.”**

“No doubt,” said Hermione with a smirk. “They’re chock-full of reverse causality.”

At that, Miss Cackle suddenly looked at Hermione with a penetrating gaze just shy of a glare. It seemed out of character, given her usual kindly, wise, twinkle-eyed demeanor. “You would know, wouldn’t you, dear **_Hermione_** ,” she responded.

At that, for whatever reason, Hermione swallowed and looked uncomfortable. 

  
**"I'm not doing that ... again,"** Harry declared, still fighting nausea, though the lemon drop had, in fact, helped a lot.

 **"Gets easier, doesn't it?"** asked Miss Cackle, addressing Hermione. Said girl nodded, though she looked at Harry with some sympathy.

 They had just turned to enter the office when a snooty-looking blonde girl rushed up. “Miss Cackle, about my extra credit project, I wish ...” she said breathlessly. 

“Dear Miss Hallow,” Miss Cackle replied, “Whatever you have worked out with the faculty, I am sure will be fine. I don’t tend to interfere, as you know. Moreover, you have a new classmate to welcome, and we are just getting her squared away. I present to you Miss Harriet Potter,” she said, waving her hand at Harry.

”Potter ... Potter ... not a family I am familiar with,” the snooty girl said. “You aren’t, are you, the one who destroyed a week’s supply of Miss Hardbroom’s potions works with Hubble?”

Harry looked embarrassed.

The girl rolled her eyes, then directed her gaze at Hermione. “And I suppose your function has been teaching her how to ignore the rules?” 

Hermione responded swiftly. “I don’t know what you mean, Miss Hallow. All of the incidents where I was threatened with detention are water under the bridge, given I have never actually violated a rule.”

”While that might be technically correct,” began Ethel —

“Which is the best correct of all, and Harry here still needs to be squared away before the whole school day is over,” Hermione continued, with an insincere smile that obviously drew the blonde’s ire, but not in a way she could call out. With a harrumph and a muttered, “Thank you, Miss Cackle,” she whirled around and stalked off, doing an uncanny imitation of the potions teacher.

After catching only one lesson, Harry already realized the academy would be much more work than she was usually willing to do. If that troll hadn’t managed to turn into a police officer and then infiltrate the Academy, she would have probably sloughed off the work and gotten herself a girlfriend, or more likely a couple of them, to do all her work and help her crib on the tests. But as it was, she probably actually _needed_ training. Stepping up to a responsibility was not in her comfort zone, but until she could figure out how to pass the responsibility off to someone who gave more of a damn, she was probably on the hook.

She informed her mentor of her conclusion after they all had dinner. Harry had been genial without really telling anyone anything

Hermione agreed, and told her they possibly wouldn’t be able to be together “recreationally” for a few days. In the meantime, she urged her to get as much sleep as possible. She assured her none of the lessons would challenge Hermione at all, so she would have plenty of time to catch Harry up in all the subjects she had to take. 

“I suppose,” she said judiciously, “I won’t be able to stop you from chatting up whichever birds you find the most fit, will I?”

She pondered for a half a minute. “Let’s agree you limit yourself to no more than one a week, and you are discreet — not in your opinion, but in mine?” With that, she offered her hand, which Harry shook. She was just relieved Hermione wasn’t going to insist on total monogamy. The school year promised to be such a drag Harry was going to need as much stress relief as she could manage. Telling her quite sternly she expected Harry to go right to sleep, Hermione took her leave. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything in bold is taken from the later TV version of The Worst Witch. 
> 
> **Reverse causality:** A great deal of the Harry Potter franchise appears to have derived from the Worst Witch franchise, which began almost 20 years before it. However, some elements went the other way: Miss Cackle changed her sweets addiction from cream biscuits to lemon drops years after Dumbledore revealed his obsession with them. Hermione Cackle is pointing that out, to which Miss Cackle is responding that she would know, given that Hermione came into the Worst Witch franchise a year after Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone came out. In the parodic tradition, the 4th wall is not going to be preserved in this story whenever it is more amusing not to. It is quite possible both Rowling and Murphy simply wanted a shakespearean (or even mythological) name.


	3. Harry chats up a transfer student

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mildred and Harry disagree on the friend ensemble a school story protagonist should accumulate. Harry hits on an attractive transfer student in the dining hall, and feels hopeful.

Harry didn’t have any lessons immediately after dinner, so she decided to eat in a hurry, leave, and come back. She’d noted a girl with very long hair kept in two braids that must have taken ages to maintain, and who normally wore a blue and white gingham shawl and kept to herself even more than Hermione did. The girl was very pretty, and Harry specialized in preying on the ones who separated from the herd. After leaving the dining hall for the first time, she ran into Mildred and her bookish friend Maude Moonshine.

“Hello, Harry!” said Mildred enthusiastically.

“Hi, Mil,” she responded. Harry was unfailingly polite and nice to Mildred, who was, after all, her backup plan. In fact, teaching Mildred the ropes appealed to Harry’s predatory instincts with obvious virgins.

“Is it true you and Hermione are friends?” Mildred asked, her eyes alit with interest.

“Yep,” said Harry.

“That’s wonderful, Harriet!” Said Mildred. “You know, I have a top student friend, too!” With that she indicated Maude, who curtsied, introduced herself, and shook Harry’s hand.

“Now,” continued Mildred, “for a proper heroic magical trio you just need another friend who will force you to obsess on sports, neglect your homework, fail your tests, and in general skive off in an immature and self-indulgent manner. I’ve got my eye on Enid Nightshade, so dibs on her.”

 _What the hell would I need **that** for?_ Harry wondered. She looked over at Maude, who shrugged.

“It’s to make it more of a contrast when you win out at the end, silly," Mildred explained patiently. "Plus, you get points for helping them mature. And you look more well-rounded. It’s all in my journal. I’ll let you read it if you promise not to show Ethel.”

* * *

 

When Harry returned to the dining hall with one of her textbooks to have tea and, ostensibly, study, she made a point of sitting opposite the gingham shawl girl. Now that she looked her over, it was not a very happy face she stole glances at, though it was still quite a pretty one. Harry coughed.

"I hope you don't mind, but I heard you were new here, too. I'm Harry Potter, and I'm from the states."

The look she got back from the girl was completely _Well, if I Must_.

"Oh?"" she asked. "And where in the States would that be? Big place, after all."

"California," said Harry, in that way Californians had of implying "of course." She hoped it still came off as brash instead of just rude.

"Well, I am one of the Kansas Gales," the girl replied.

That triggered one of Harry's tried-and-true maneuvers. Break the ice -- the dumber the joke, the better!

"Well, that must explain your breezy personality," she quipped to the actually very dour girl.

The girl muttered something that sounded like "Really??? THAT again?" and looked at Harry with obvious disdain. Then she muttered again. This time it sounded like "well, at least I know this one doesn't have a brain." Boy-Harry had prided himself on never tilting with a girl and girl-Harry didn't want her perfect record marred. The girl at least told her that her name was Dorothy, but she quite deliberately did not offer her hand. Harry might have been tempted to try kissing the back of her hand if she had, so it was all good, really, since that probably didn't fly as well if you, too were a girl. Suddenly, a thought seemed to have struck her target female.

"So what do you think of wizards and witches so far, Harry, is it?" she suddenly asked.

That one was easy, sort of. "I can honestly say I've had my ups and downs with them," she admitted. Jeanette and Miss St. Clair really didn't balance out Torok in anyone's book, she thought.

"Tell me about it," said Dorothy.

 

> "I just got out of a situation where I killed an evil magician without knowing anything about it, and became a hero to a whole magical society on the strength of that. Then, even though I wasn't even old enough for middle school, without any training or even the most basic information, I was supposed to repeat the feat, and everyone else sat on their butts waiting for me to do it. Defeating the evil minions included. Worse, when I did repeat the slaying in a bizarre and implausible fashion, I discovered that the alleged Leader of the Light had been lying and maneuvering me the entire time, and that the leading wizard of the whole magical society was mostly a pious fraud,"

she finished, all in one breath.

Getting her to open up about this had to be a good sign ... that said ...

' _Sucks to be her,_ ' thought Harry Potter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Kansas Gales ... breezy personality:**  
>  In Baum's stage adaptation of The Wizard of Oz this was the actual first exchange between Dorothy and the brainless Scarecrow. Technically, the Scarecrow said "breezy manner" but that doesn't fit a more modern Californian.


	4. Question Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What it says on the tin.

Harry got back to her quarters feeling good about her prospects with both Mildred the Backup Girlfriend and Gingham Babe with Issues, if she did say so herself. And lo and behold, there was the girl — and really, all she needed was some fixing up — who'd already committed to a physical relationship of some kind.

She looked at Harry archly. Of course, she knew how Harry had spent her day.

"It occurred to me, Harry, that we don't actually know each other at all, and if we're going to associate, let's fix that."

"I'm game, if you are," Harry replied. "Is there somewhere nearby girls go to hang out?"

"Karla's. Let's," said Hermione, grabbing Harry's arm. "I can go out whenever I wish, and I believe it extends to you, given I've informed Amelia you are our sole resource for information on the troll wizard you tried to pretend not to know. What is his actual name, by the by?"

"Ah," said Harry, sheepishly rubbing the back of her head and blushing. Blushing! "It's Torok, actually. And he started life as an elf, learned to be a wizard, then was turned into a troll."

"Why would anyone do that?"

"They thought it would help control him, I guess?" Harry said, embarrassed.

"By making him nearly immune to magic?"

"Well, it probably wasn't a smart someone who did it. Magic doesn't make a lot of sense so far, or maybe that's just my take."

"And being turned into a troll ... made him cheerful and willing to cooperate?"

"No, of course not. He's got a chip on his shoulder bigger than he is."

"Yes, thank God they at least made him a miniature troll."

By that point they had reached Karla's Witch's Coffee Shop. There was an image of Karla on the sign. She was a flawless babe.

"Despite the name and the fact that witches go to it, it's not exclusive to magical customers, so you had best keep your voice down starting now," explained Hermione, "and I will cast a privacy spell once we're seated and have ordered."

Harry wasn't paying much attention. Leaning over the counter, talking to one of the servers, a hottie named "Miss Etoile," was the mega-babe Karla herself, and in particular, her mega-perfect witchy butt.

"Just so you know," said Hermione with a snort, "she has grandsons older than you."

Harry didn't mind experienced girls even if he was looking forward to breaking Mildred in, so he just gave Hermione a stare down his nose and raised his eyebrows.

"Just saying," continued Hermione, "in the witch world you never know what you'll find."

"Well, Jeanette is still quite ... how do England people say it ... fanciable, and she must be as old as Karla. I don't even wanna guess how old Eunice St. Clair must be to look that old."

"But that leads me nicely to the Question Game, Harry dear. What year and day were you born?"

"Uh ... End of July, '71?"

"Interesting ... Ruby ... Leo ... Scorpio ... and, of course, Pig."

"Fine, same question."

"Christmas Day - though Christmas wasn't really a holiday then, we just had a nativity feast if you could afford one  ... " began Hermione. "1687."

"You're Three Hundred Years Old?" Harry asked.

"Well, no. I had just done my duty to the witching world and fostered a daughter — her father was the prettiest noble I ever robbed — off on the family of my second in command and gone off exploring ... well, raiding and exploring. I found a crystal cave that looked ideal for hiding loot, and I hoped I would find some to walk off with. I turned a corner ... and suddenly I was many years younger, and the world was a good deal older."

"So you're Miss Cackle's great great grandma?"

"It's five greats, Harry dear."

"Does she know?"

"She suspects heavily. I am, after all, the Founder, hence in that textbook and they still sing songs about me every year. But enough about me, it's your turn. What do you look for in the fair sex?"

"The ..."

"Girls, Harry."

"Oh. Well, good looks, won't make me work too hard, but not too easy. It really helps if they can do strong magic and teach me things, given the ... troll and all."

"For me, regardless of sex, I look for one of two types, Harry. Either someone who can provide me with loot or someone who can help me make others provide me with loot."

"So, to put it a lot simpler ... Loot. Major turn on? I can respect that, who doesn't like loot?"

"Indeed. How are you with a pistol, Harry? A cutlass? Deadly curses?"

"Whoa, why would I want that?"

Hermione tsked. "I see we have a lot of work to do. For now, enjoy your tea and biscuits, Harry."

Fortunately, while her talk was kind of a turn off, while they were talking one of Hermione's feet had migrated up Harry's leg and under the skirt of her uniform. By the time they got back to the Academy, Harry and Hermione went right to Hermione's room. Quickly. Completely ignoring Hermione's schedule. As Harry had always suspected, it turned out it was just as good for girls, whatever they might claim in public.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Witch's Coffee Shop, Miss Etoile:** Karla Rodriguez print 'Witch's Coffee Shop.' In the altered version posted to "deviantart," Miss Etoile is stenciled on the beautiful witch/barista's pointed hat.


	5. Hermione's Schedule, Harry's Headache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione wants Harry to study. Harry wants Hermione to fix herself up. But haggling with Hermione is not a cake walk like hitting on Hubble. Potter perplexities ensue.

When Harry woke up, Hermione was sitting up beside him -- no, her, she reminded herself -- still naked. She was holding a notebook labeled "Harry's Training"  where she had worked out a color coded schedule for what looked like Harry's every waking hour. Harry was going to question her bedmate when the sunlight lit up her strong but pleasant face. The way she cut her hair was very 1687, she guessed, but it was a shame. It was medium long, curly and somewhat bushy, and probably all she cared about was not having it go in her eyes in a fight. What Harry cared about was, of course, how she'd look on her arm.

"Questions, Miss Potter?" Hermione asked with a smirk.

"Well, first, I had no idea you'd turn out to be a nerd, no offense."

"None taken, or you'd know it quickly." Harry had to remind herself again she was a girl, with no more strength than Hermione, who could probably whip Harry's butt without breathing hard. "Still ... " she heard her continue, "... In your case, according to the Gale girl, you never had a brain to begin with. She claimed to be an expert on that, so I won't quibble with her. But in general, I believe reliance on magic tends to rob witches of whatever native wit they might have had before. Honestly, Harry!"

With that, she turned to Harry with her hands on her thighs near her hips. The posture emphasized her breasts, which defeated her purpose in addressing Harry. Regardless, she added, "If I were truly an illiterate barbarian, the way they sing about me in this school, would I have founded a bloody Academy of Magic all by myself, barely into my twenties? It's quite the other way 'round, actually. I was an apprentice of several masters, but bored out of my mind with rote instruction. I decided to leverage all my knowledge into becoming the best brigand I could be." Seeing Harry was a bit puzzled, she took pity on her: "I _outsmarted_ them. Tactics, strategy, alliances, narking them to the authorities, whatever I needed to do. Eventually I was the only brigand around, and I restricted myself to road tolls. But that became boring too, hence Miss Cackle's was born."

"I guess Mil wasn't kidding when she said you were a top student, then?"

"No, she wasn't. Myself, Miss Moonshine-Spellbody, the Hallows, we all tend to occupy the top places. Although, for Maude, Ethel and me it's only our first year."

"I had no idea I was dating the elite. So you used to run your own bandit kingdom, now all you care about is your GPA?"

"My what?"

"Grades, top student Grant!"

Hermione snorted.

"Books! And cleverness! There are more important things - friendship and bravery and — oh Harry - be careful!"

But it was too late. Somehow, Harry had kicked her pants off under Hermione's bed and was squirming around, bottomless, retrieving them. At least, Hermione noted, it was a good-looking bottom. But Harry's head was under the frame edge, and she wasn't paying attention. To be honest, it was probably Hermione's very exclamation that caused her to jerk her head up suddenly and bash it into the bed-frame. Hermione felt a bit guilty but continued. "Sorry! But as I was saying, friendship and bravery and shagging and loot — those are my Big Four."

Hermione looked pensive. "I think you and I have the beginnings of a bargain to make. And by bargain I mean I will tell you the terms and you will agree to them."

Harry, with a sore head and dust-covered knickers, was in no mood to be easy-going. Still, this was. after all, Hermione's home territory. 

"First, we will rise early for physical training, including swordplay. I promise you it will have aesthetic results as well — that means it will make us look nicer, Harry. Second, for my part, I will endeavor to look my best so as not to embarrass you in your womanizing, status-seeking quest. I realize you are normally as disinclined to hard work as Miss Nightshade, but you will be rewarded. Your grades will improve to an acceptable level, you will learn many things to help keep your friend Torok occupied, and we will both learn about girlish fashion from probably the only witch here who knows the first thing about it. Esmeralda Hallow. All you need to do is agree. And when talking with Miss Hallow you will hold your tongue about her sister Ethel."

"What about Dorothy?"

"That girl is only a bit more contemporary than I am. She was born at the end of the nineteenth century. Apparently all the time she spent in Oz was wiped away when she arrived here, making her a first year again. Poor Mildred is the only young innocent you've been able to lure into your web so far, my friend."

"Still, she dresses okay. And her hair's better taken-care-of."

"We will ask — humbly - Esmeralda's opinion on that."

"The way you talk about her, this Esmeralda must be something."

"You have no idea."

Harry had to pull her stocking on one-handed, as Hermione had shoved her schedule into her other arm, telling her she was off to breakfast. She dimly noted Hermione had changed all her classes to coincide with Hermione's own schedule.

When she caught up and sat by Hermione, Harry asked about something that had puzzled her. 

"The snooty nerd girl said you specialized in breaking the rules. I didn't care at the time, but did she have a point?"

"Oh? Do you mean our tryst?"

"Well, that and changing my schedule just like that."

"Both of them are affected by your status as an investigator and protector of the school. You can ask Miss Hubble about that -- she was nearly expelled her first week in, but she managed to save the school, so no matter how much Ethel or Hardbroom, among others, want to get rid of her, they can't. She's very sweet about it, but she ignores as many rules as she can without causing a public issue. But that's not me. I know the rules inside and out, because I wrote them, after all."

"Oh, good point. Easy to forget when you don't look like Madam St. Clair."

"Yes, Harry, in fact, not only me, but my daughter Amelia and all subsequent headmistresses wrote dozens of loopholes into the rules. I believe Americans call them back-doors or Easter eggs." 

"So what rule lets you shag whenever you want and rearrange class schedules?"

"After your change in status, I offered to re-sort your schedule to facilitate training and investigation, so all I had to do was finalize that. And naturally that took much of the night, which is why you had a sleepover in my room."

Harry noted that she didn't have a class right after breakfast. Hermione had coded in "S Training" back in her room instead, so that's where they went.

"S Training?" she asked. "What does the S stand for?"

Hermione looked at her pityingly. "At least once you're in shape and cleaned up a bit, you will be pretty enough, Harry. I suppose we can't have everything."

 


	6. What About the Troll?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, what about him?

**"Ethel Hollow. What a beauty. What a sweet, innocent young marvel. She really is the prize of the school. Our precious angel. We must continue to guard her with our lives. Keep her safe and pure from the wiles of evil men and ... other creatures. Oh, Ethel!"**

Harry had rarely been so embarrassed in her life, and for once, she wasn't even laying it on so thick to get laid. A spell she'd cast earlier notified her that Ethel Hollow had followed her to the corridor where the troll's current home was located, and was lurking just around the corner. Harry had made a point of acting as suspiciously as possible, including being uncharacteristically nice to the utter prat. A surreptitious glance into a compact mirror Hermione had given her showed Ethel was blushing and looking even more confused than usual, and far less confident. _Excellent_.

She'd realized that it was no good plunging into the troll's lair like a simpleton. She was almost one, but somehow, Hermione must be rubbing off on her. It must be all the "S Training." At that thought, she couldn't help but smile. Harry was being schooled by a school girl in what she'd always considered her best subject, and all she could do was beg for more. She noticed Ethel's face in the mirror turning even redder. _I wonder what kind of look I had on my face just then_ , she thought, and laughed.

At any rate, the only way to get the troll out was to use one of the girls as bait. And when you considered who the most disposable girl at Madame Cackle's was ...

Just then, she heard the door open. It was showtime. Either she'd capture the troll or she'd lose her bait. One extremely beautiful girl back in California had had a fishing fixation, and the first thing Harry had learned from her was that you didn't always haul them in on the first cast.

It was a good attitude to have, it turned out, because, almost negligently, the troll whirled around and deflected Harry's spell off the wall and onto the unsuspecting Ethel. He then followed up with the same binding spell Harry had cast, driving her to the ground, helpless. Without even bothering to comment, the troll smirked and turned to gather up his prize.

Suddenly, Harry saw a flash of brown, bushy hair. Hermione was squaring off against Torok! If Harry could move, she'd have buried her head in her hands. But this was a new Harry, and not just because of the new equipment. Jeanette and Eunice St. Clair had taught Harry simple nature magics she could do simply by moving her eyes and thinking the spells. She'd already gotten a spell started to channel the dampness in the hallway into a puddle, but the appearance of her main girlfriend added urgency and power to it. Amazingly, Torok actually slipped on the sudden puddle before his spell could land on Hermione, who cast a binding spell of her own with one hand, and brought out a sap with the other. She was just bringing the blackjack down, and Harry was starting to sigh with relief, when Hermione toppled forward, struck in the back with a knockout spell. The mega-bitch Ethel Hollow had gotten loose and screwed things up for everyone else yet again.

For a moment, Hollow looked embarrassed. Then she lifted her head and declared that she had planned that "to get the less competent witch out of the way." Unfortunately, the time she took to massage her ego gave the troll time to undo Hermione's spell and freeze Ethel again. _There are still a lot of ways this could go right_ , Harry prayed. But nobody was listening. The troll ignored Harry and Ethel, swept Hermione up in its ugly arms, and popped back into the room, laughing its evil troll laugh that was Harry's least favorite sound on Earth. Helpless, Harry glared at Ethel. Undaunted, and incapable of self-reflection, she glared back.

* * *

The one person Harry thought she could count on in her new quest for vengeance turned out to be a dud. Mildred made soothing noises and rubbed little circles on Harry's back, but such signs of progress in terms of physical affection were obliterated when she refused to help Harry drive Ethel from the school.

"I realize it isn't what common sense or even sanity would recommend, Harry, but it turns out that the worse Ethel behaves, the more we have to defuse her by making friends," Mildred explained. "The farther she falls, the more heroine virtue you get for redeeming her. My advice is to be extra nice to Ethel and focus on gettting Hermione back. It wouldn't be heroinely for me to point out that with her under glass, I'm probably going to be your main - what is it Americans say - squeeze now, so I won't do that. In fact, I'll help you with rescuing your tomboy girlfriend. But you have to promise me to give up this unheroic vengeance idea and be nice."

"Nice? To that bitch? It'll be a cold day in hell ..." Maude unhelpfully pointed out that the real Hel was, in fact, always having a cold day. Her mother had written a treatise, in fact, that ... Harry silenced her with a glare.

"Of course you have to be nice to Ethel - she's only rude, demanding, insulting and insufferable because she's insecure and feels inferior to her older sibling! Goddess knows I'd love to hex her socks off and cut her dead, but our hands are tied, here," Mildred continued, with her trademark sweet smile.

Maude piped up, then. "I'm afraid she's right. In a situation like this you have to forgive the insecure witch or wizard endlessly and, moreover …"

With that, a first year who looked a lot like Esmerelda and Ethel popped her head up and waved, shyly.

"… sleep with their little sister who has a hero-worshipping crush on you," Maude continued.

_Well_ , she thought. The rules Mildred kept coming up with were implausible even to someone like Harry, who hated having to think about anything very seriously. How Mildred had gotten one of the smartest witches in the whole school to go along was anyone's guess. But it was, also, at the end of the day, Maude's problem. And taking another look at …

The girl realized the question Harry was going to ask, and quietly said "Sybil Hollow, Miss Potter … um …. at your service," then curtsied cutely.

"Yes," said Harry, deciding she liked what she saw, "Yes, I think you will be."

She actually resumed her train of thought — _Hermione was **definitely** rubbing off on her — again, unsurprising, considering how often they'd_ — okay, what was that thought again. She felt a small hand slip itself into hers. She looked over at Sybil, who blushed, but still smiled… _Mildred's rules were incomprehensible, but they weren't always all bad. Or even half bad_.


End file.
